


Never Forget

by RyanWantsMilk



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Drug Mentions, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Underage Drinking, implied prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:30:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanWantsMilk/pseuds/RyanWantsMilk
Summary: It’s cold showers, wet dreams, stolen kisses, exchanged body heat between two lovers.It’s lies.





	Never Forget

**Author's Note:**

> In which I write a short poem(ish?) thing. Implied Brendon+Ryan and other implications.

It’s late evenings spent out alone. It’s the painful silence that casts over the room like a warm blanket. It’s the crack of the flames as they wordlessly stare. It’s the older boy who’s searching for the nearest escape. It’s the soft tap of his fingers against the linoleum because he knew he fucked up this time.

It’s school days that the boys would find their freedom. It’s the cracking of leaves, the chipping of beer bottles, the violent cursing and the active rebellion. It’s the adrenaline in their veins as they shoot up cocaine.

It’s the hormones of romance-deprived adolescents on the dance floor. It’s the exchange of looks between the younger and older, yet same-aged males. It’s the bets, the dares, the practical jokes that puts the twist to their story.

It’s the distance, it’s the closeness, it’s the feeling that they’re alive. It’s the increase of pace as the teen hearts beat faster and faster. 

It’s the subtle twist of the digits that makes the older boy’s body twist and convolute. It’s the way they curl up just right in the bundle of nerves that makes him cry out. It’s the arch of his spine, the way his body will bend and break, it’s the expletives that follow.

It’s the calloused fingertips against the rusted steel strings. It’s the steady beat of the skins pounding like a heart beat. It’s the brassy tones - which are projected from the younger boy’s lungs - that fill the room.

It’s cold showers, wet dreams, stolen kisses, exchanged body heat between two lovers.

It’s lies.

It’s the tears in the eyes of the older boy as he bends for another man. It’s the green, stained paper in the pocket of fabric that burns through his mind. It’s the sweat, the agony, the wet heat that reminds him of what he did. It’s the guilt that floods his veins as he does it again and again.

It’s the agony demanding to be felt in the eyes of the ex-lover. It’s the betrayal, the subtle twist of the knife of manipulation to his gut. It’s the nights on the bathroom floor wondering where between the bedsheets there had been a fall out.

It’s the one the other will always remember.

It’s the forgiveness they never forget.


End file.
